


I could be the one (the only one for you)

by aliaaaaaa



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Opposites Attract, Slow Burn, assholes in love, forced to live together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: in a rescue mission gone awry, two enemies were struck by malicious witches in a curse."Bound to each other?" Newt asked, voice stuck in his throat."Married."





	I could be the one (the only one for you)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! the idea of wanting to write Percival and Newt being assholes to each other and accidentally marrying each other won't leave me alone so this is the (still unfinished) end result.
> 
> I hope you will enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
> 
> this has been beta-read by Mars and polished by Anna. 
> 
> all mistakes are mine.

 

When Madam President told him that MACUSA was planning to open a new department and that she had personally invited a specialist from the British Ministry of Magic to oversee and train the new officers, Percival Graves began to have a bad feeling.

But he kept quiet instead of voicing his worries because he knew that Seraphina Picquery wasn’t foolish enough to invite a known criminal into their respected organization.

There was just no way Picquery would betray his trust like that.

But on the morning that Newt Scamander stumbled into the grand meeting room during the daily roll-call, Graves was once again reminded that not everyone was as smart as him and that Picquery was indeed a foolish woman for hiring trouble like Scamander.

Graves did not care even a bit about Scamander being a capable Magizoologist known for his talent in handling magical creatures and beasts. He did not care that the British dimwit was the younger brother of the war hero, Theseus Scamander.

All he cared about was removing Newt Scamander from the office immediately, because he would only bring danger and harm for the wizards of MACUSA with his reckless behavior!

When he brought up his concern on the matter, the Madam President refused to even acknowledge it.

“With all due respect, Madam, Newton Scamander is a danger to the organization. He is a criminal who thinks that the law doesn’t apply to him just because his older brother is a war hero,” Graves argued heatedly.

Picquery rolled her eyes at him. How dare she.

“Furthermore, he isn’t capable of being a teamplayer because he has been working alone his whole life, collecting dangerous magical creatures in that blasted suitcase of his. Plus he always shows up in the wrong place at the wrong time and has a very high tendency for ruining perfectly devised plans.”

“Get over the Cairo incident already, Graves,” Picquery replied calmly while sipping tea and Graves bristled. “Busting the largest human trafficking case was a success thanks to both your plan _and_ Scamander’s perfect timing in bursting through the tightly guarded building with the Thunderbird.”

“He is a criminal, Sera! He didn’t have proper documentation to enter Egypt and you know damn well that he didn’t even have a permit to keep that blasted Thunderbird!”

“He _is_ very knowledgeable in his field and excellent in the way he handles and commands even the most wild beasts, you can’t deny that, Mr. Graves,” Picquery raised her voice to be heard over Graves’ loud tone. “That is why we need to follow the current demands for our officers to handle the creatures better. Good image for the organization.”

Graves wanted to hex Picquery into oblivion but that would mean treason and Death Cell, two things that the Graves should never associate themselves with, because they were loyal to the organization. But the temptation of breaking that tradition was almost a siren’s call to him right now.

“You’re a great Auror and even better Director, Percival,” Picquery appeased him softly. “With Scamander on board, we would have a better relationship with the Ministry of Magic and that would help create a good ally for when we find ourselves in trouble. So please refrain yourself from jeopardizing this partnership, Mr. Graves.”

Graves gritted his teeth and agreed to get along with the foolhardy Scamander for the whole of MACUSA’s sake, albeit with a lot of silent protest.

By Picquery’s decree, Graves was to act as a temporary supervisor to Scamander until his three months probation was over. He had to coach Scamander on how to run a department efficiently and guide him on how to properly handle a raid when they were out in the field.

All simple things, except he was working with a menace and nothing was ever simple when Scamander was involved in the equation.

Scamander made it known that he didn’t think much about Graves. That he didn’t even remember Graves being in Cairo with him bringing down the largest human trafficking organization in the world.

The fucking cheek of this child.

“But I heard from the others that you think of me as a dickwad,” Scamander said cooly, arranging his desk with small potted plants and weird looking trinkets. “You think that I am a criminal who always dodges the law and has no proper documentation for myself or my creatures.”

Scamander looked up from his task and Graves saw how there was a speck of gold in his green eyes. He also realized that Scamander was taller than him when he straightened his body to his fullest height.

“Frankly my dear Director, I don’t give a damn about what you think about me. We both know that we are being used as political pawns by our respective organizations so they could gain benefits from this partnership,” Scamander explained calmly, green eyes still boring into Graves’ hazels. “I don’t mind being a pawn as long as I get to change MACUSA’s policy on magical creatures.”

Scamander placed his battered brown suitcase on the neat desk and popped open the latch. “The way I see it, this partnership is leaning in my favor, Mr. Graves. So I suggest you treat me nicely if you don’t want me to go back to England and cry pitifully to my dear brother about how I was being unfairly treated by you.”

With one last smirk, Scamander climbed into the suitcase, leaving Graves alone and fuming in the cramped office.

How dare the boy threaten him! Graves would show him who’s the boss around here. He would make Scamander regret his blatant display of insubordination!

But whatever devious plan Graves had in store for Scamander had to  be put to rest for a while when the Magical Security Department received multiple alarming reports on disappearing witches.

Graves pushed his Aurors to work hard on the case. He stayed back after office hours alongside the night shift Aurors and came up with plans and places for stakeouts based on the missing reports. His office was a mess of papers and red ropes on the wall pinpointing the victims and their connections with each other.

“Miss Shirley Mason and Miss Sharon Plidge were good friends,” Fontaine reported to him in the daily briefing session.

“Were?”

Fontaine nodded.

“They had a fallout when Plidge found out that Mason was spreading rumors about her sleeping around. According to Mason’s sister, it was a very scandalous fight because it happened at Mason’s engagement party, after which she disclosed that her fiancé left her for another younger woman.”

“So it was a potential case of revenge then,” Graves observed as he scribbled down the information underneath Plidge and Mason’s black and white photos and turned to address O’Brien.

“What about these two?” He tapped his fingers at photos labelled “Mary Stetson” and “Nancy Wagner”.

O’Brien pulled his tiny notebook from his breast pocket before enlarging it to flip the pages about. “Same story, boss man,” the Auror said. “Stetson and Wagner had history of petty fighting and hair pulling since their families were rivals in the jewellery business. Their friends told us that in the last several months the fighting worsened when Wagner’s family was commissioned by the State Museum to refurbish a whole case of jewellery worn by the Fairie Queen.”

“Did someone mention the Fairie Queen?”

Graves closed his eyes and tiredly rubbed his face.

“Scamander,” Graves growled before lifting his head to glare at the cocky child that was currently leaning against the entrance of the briefing room. “This is a private meeting. Kindly remove yourself from the room because this case has nothing to do with you.”

Instead of following his order, the bane of Graves’ existence casually walked into the room and straight to the board where all the information was tacked neatly by Graves. “If this is a private meeting then you should close the door,” Scamander said breezily.

“This is the Aurors Department! Your department is on the other side of the floor!” Graves hollered, fingers twitching, as if they wanted to choke the infuriating man.

“I was feeling friendly so I thought I should visit the neighbors,” Scamander informed him absently, his gold-green eyes drinking in the information on the board with gusto.

“I don’t have time to play games with you here,” Graves growled.

”I’m not playing games,” Scamander replied distractedly. “I’m here to help.”

“How can you possibly help when you know nothing about the blasted case from--”

Scamander raised a single digit to shush him and Graves immediately shut his mouth from the shock of being told to be quiet. He was just about ready to hex Scamander when the unruly child said something odd.

“The women were kidnapped on the full moon,” Scamander observed, fingers tapping on the dates scribbled down hastily by the officers-in-charge of taking the initial missing person reports. “Here,” He pointed a date out; May 27th.

Graves looked at Scamander with a bewildered expression and he turned around to give his Aurors a ‘What is this brat going on about?’ look.

“How is that information relevant to these cases, Scamander?” Mathews asked, and Graves was thankful that his Aurors were level-headed as he was.

“Of course it has everything to do with the cases,” Scamander replied exasperatedly. “It’s been a month since these women were kidnapped, correct?”

The Aurors nodded and Graves waited for more logical explanation to this madness.

“And today is June 25th! Another full moon is upon us!” Scamander enthused like he was waiting for them to join in the fun of talking nonsense.

“Alright, out! I don’t want to see you in here talking nonsense and interrupting our work.” Graves tried to push the lanky boy but it seemed he was made of sturdier material than Graves was expecting because instead of budging, Scamander wheeled around to grip his shoulders tightly.

“Are you or are you not a wizard?” Scamander asked, long fingers digging into his shoulders painfully; gold-green eyes looking eerie in the bright fluorescent light.

“What are you trying to say, Scamander?” Graves growled, pushing his palm on Scamander’s chest firmer; ready to let his magic flow out from his palm and blast Scamander away.

“Full moon, summer, magical being,” Scamander hinted enigmatically and just like that something clicked in Graves’ head; the smell of burning lavender incense penetrated his nose and he remembered his great-grandmother pulling his small body into her embrace. Murmuring something about sacrifice and forgiveness and chaos.

“Midsummer night,” Graves breathed out, dizzy from the memory of yesteryear. “There’s going to be a pagan ritual involving the women,” he continued and when he looked up Scamander was smiling at him and murmuring “Clever man.”

Before Graves could address his Aurors, Goldstein bursted into the room and yelled, “Mr. Graves we know where the women are!”

 

* * *

 

Following Graves and his merry band of Aurors was probably not the brightest idea that Newt had ever had. But he was bored stiff in the office with nothing to do except the mountain of paperwork that he had to read and approve before passing them over to his co-director.

If Newt had known that being the Head of Magical Beasts and Creatures Protection Department would be this dull, he might have never agreed to it. But it had its perks. Re-writing the new Creature Laws was one of the perks, and having the absolute authority to keep and rehabilitate creatures as he deemed fit was another.

He was honestly happy being in MACUSA. His colleagues were nice people who shared his enthusiasm in making sure all of the magical beasts and creatures were looked after. The pay wasn’t so bad either, it was enough for him to set aside a small trust fund for when he decided to start travelling again when his contract with MACUSA ended.

The only thing that made his experience less than exceptional was having to work alongside Percival Graves, the snobbish Director of Magical Security.

They had met in Cairo a few years back when they were both assigned to help dismantle the human trafficking ring.

Yes, he remembered Graves. Hard not to when the man’s presence was so imposing and powerful that everyone around him seemed lacking in both confidence and skill.

Newt initially didn’t have any opinion about the man. He had heard his brother discussing with their father about how Graves was steadily climbing MACUSA’s ladders and had been appointed as the President’s right-hand man at a very young age. There would be no surprise if Graves ended up leading MACUSA himself in few years time.

But those things weren’t enough to cause Newt to be dazzled by the man’s presence. Yes, he was handsome in a way, that is if you like men shorter and older than you. He was also very skilled in dueling from what Newt had observed of how Graves had utilized his wand and wandless hand movements.

Newt also found out that Graves was a real stickler for the rules; he was the kind of man who barked orders at his subordinates and yelled at them when they so much as miscalculated their steps. Newt wasn’t opposed to this behavior. He knew that it was essential to keep the Aurors in line during such large scale operations.

No, the thing about Graves that irritated Newt the most was when he overheard the man complaining that the traffickers should just use creatures and beasts for their illegal activities instead of wizards and witches.

That had made Newt’s blood boil in blind rage. It was the reason why he rode on the back of Frank the Thunderbird and jeopardized the whole operation to steal the glory from Percival Graves.

Now he was foolishly following the man into the forest just because he was bored.

How stupid could he be?

Apparently very stupid, as he stubbornly wanted to follow Graves into the dark forest instead of staying back.

“If anything were to happen to you, your brother would have my head!” Graves hissed as he tried to trip Newt so the man would stop following him.

But Newt easily avoided Graves’ leg, and rammed his sharp elbow into the man’s chest; grinning when he heard Graves' pained wheeze.

“I am a capable wizard, Mr. Graves,” Newt said, pulling out his wand before casting a protection spell for the both of them. “I can take care of myself.”

Graves growled in warning but he dropped the matter when Tina gave them the signal to follow her. They made their way into the thick forest, bodies crouched low to avoid being seen, and from the corner of his eye he saw Graves point his palm and, with a grand sweeping gesture, cast the silencing charm on them.

“Show off,” Newt muttered, and Graves glared at him. He looked ahead as Tina slowed down and from this distance he could faintly hear voices chanting old magic incantations.

Graves creeped closer to where Newt was seated; his shoulder pressing into Newt’s back as he pointed his wand and muttered a spell to clear the leaves and branches.

What Newt saw in the wide clearing was like nothing he had ever seen before. There were four women moving around the open fire; the way they were moving reminded Newt of one of the tribes he had encountered in the deep jungle of Borneo.

The women were naked, and their hair danced wildly in the wind. Their breasts moved hypnotizingly; puffy nipples looking bright pink in the fire light flickering across their bodies. There were strange white markings all over their skins; intricate lines weaving to form unknown symbols.

The chanting grew louder; calling upon the spirit to come to them as they raised their hands to the night sky.

“They have the women with them,” Graves whispered to Newt, pointing to the far end of the clearing where the four missing women were tied together in circle.

“Rune,” Newt commented; his brain working fast to try and dissect what kind of ritual they’re performing based on the rune drawing.

“We have to move now,” Fontaine said from somewhere behind him and he heard Graves take a shuddering breath. He knew that Graves would want to wait until he could devise a proper plan to ambush the kidnappers. But they had no time left; the midsummer night would be upon them in a few minutes and when the spirit came; then all would be over.

“It’s now or never, Graves,” Newt goaded the man, because he could see that Graves was still hesitant in making his decision. “If you won’t do it then I will.”

Graves slapped the back of his head with a resounding smack and, were it not for the steady silencing charm, the loud noise would have drawn the kidnappers attention to them.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Scamander or I swear to Morgana, I’ll choke you,” Graves growled and bared his teeth.

Newt only smiled and muttered “Kinky.” which made the Aurors laugh, causing Graves to smack his head again.

Graves closed his eyes and spoke. “Fontaine and Goldstein, you two go around that tree and attack from the left side,” Graves commands. “Mathews and O’Brien, cast the spells from the front and make sure you don’t kill the kidnappers.”

“What about me?” Newt asked, fingers gripping his wand tightly as Graves sneered at him. “You’re coming with me. We are going to save the hostages.”

Newt grinned, all teeth and menacing and for one moment Graves grinned back at him, just as viciously. They spread out and took their positions; waiting in anticipation for Graves to give them the signal.

The chanting grew louder as the rune began to glow; the naked women were moving faster now, enough so that their silhouettes were blurry; the intricates lines on their bodies sparkled brightly.

“Go!” Graves barked and at once the Aurors apparated into the clearing, surprising the kidnappers.

Newt popped in near the rune circle, watching how the red and white lines glowed eerily. The four women were in some kind of trance. Most likely they had been drugged before being tied up. Their palms were resting on top of each other. He pointed his wand to the rope and it untied itself without any problems.

He then used a levitating spell to move the unconscious women out of the rune circle.

“Scamander!”

Newt looked back and just barely managed to avoid the purple hex speeding toward him by ducking his head. Then he rolled back and cast a stunning spell at his assailant. Graves was dueling with two of the naked women; the white markings on their skin turning red as they casted hex after hex towards Graves.

The man moved fluidly; using both of his hands to block and fire spells. He almost looked like he was ball-dancing, the way his feet were moving so fancily.

Newt shook his head and grinned as he cast a spell to help Fontaine bring down one of the women. Then in the midst of the chaos, Tina got hit right in the chest and Mathews slid across the wet ground to cast a protection spell around her.

Everything was moving too fast; the women were unleashing their magic now, knocking O’Brien down with a swipe to his face. Mathews screamed in agony as her arms were bent back at an awkward angle.

Newt heard a snap and saw Mathews collapse in a heap next to the injured Tina.

Graves moved faster now. Hands waving viciously and without mercy; casting spells and hexes to make the women stay away, but they were closing in, forcing him to step back until his back was against Newt.

“Oh,” one of the women cooed, blinking her sightless white eyes sappily. “I can feel so much hatred from the both of you! Can you taste it, sister?”

The other woman sniffed and rolled out her bloody red tongue to lick the air. She grinned and Newt noticed that she had rotten teeth, despite how young she looked. “Mmm potent hate that tastes so good,” she purred and her voice sounded gravelly. “The Midsömer spirit would be happy to receive this kind of animosity.”

“Fontaine!” Graves yelled as he brought down his palm to release a torrent of electric blue lightning towards the women; but instead of getting hurt, they laughed and cast a ring of fire spell to block the others from coming near them.

Newt pointed his wand and yelled “Aguamenti!” but the water wasn’t enough to extinguish the growing fire.

The women tutted at them as they came closer; forcing them to step into the rune circle.

“You have interrupted a cleansing ritual, wizards,” the blind woman said. “We are doing this for the good of your kind, yet you came here and interrupted our sacred ritual.”

The woman with the rotten teeth grinned. “And now you’re going to take the women’s place as sacrifice to the Midsömer spirit.”

“Midsömer hear our plea,” the two women started to chant loudly towards the sky. “Bring them down to their knees. Force each to take what what the other lacks.”

There was a sudden sharp pain crawling through Newt’s spine. He felt himself burning up. From the way Graves was flailing on the ground, legs kicking up the grassy dirt viciously, Newt knew the man was feeling the same hot pain too.

“Bound their shared strength and weakness to thee! Damen boli ta!”

For an instant, the clouds cleared up and the moon was visible; shining down on the red rune, transforming the color to silvery white.

Newt screamed when the moonlight shone down on him.

Next to him, Graves was writhing; his face red and blotchy from crying. Newt extended his hand for Graves to take, and the man clasped it tightly, fingers digging firmer with each chant. He felt breathless, as though the spell had taken his breath from him, while the silvery white light wrapped around both of them, imprinting an odd glowing rune on their palms.

That was the last thing Newt remembered before darkness took him over.

 

* * *

 

Graves woke up to a stiff body, an itchy palm, and a throat as hot and dry as the Sahara desert.

He took a deep breath and tried to flex his fingers to conjure a glass of water, but he yelped in surprise when his fingers cramped painfully. Then there were gentle fingers tipping his head up, a soft tip being pressed in between his lips, and he felt cold water washing down his parched throat.

“There you go,” a soothing voice said softly. “Drink it slowly, please.”

Graves peered up and saw a man wearing a white coat gently cradling his face. Through his haze of pain, Graves noticed that the stranger had a pair of soft, green eyes.

When the man pulled the cup away from his lips, instead of saying thank you, Graves wheezed out, “You have pretty eyes.”

The man let out a startled laugh and replied with, “The better to see my patients with. Good morning Mr. Graves. You’re currently in MACUSA’s infirmary. Are you in any pain?”

Graves nodded and tried to move his hand, immediately feeling a dull throbbing in his arm. While the Healer was busy raising his bed for easy access, Graves watched how the sunlight poured through the small window, making the man’s dark hair glitter prettily.

“You hair looks so soft,” Graves praised genuinely, and the man looked at him like he was torn between laughing at him or reprimanding him.

“Thank you,” the healer replied mildly, and Graves, feeling bold said, “Can I touch it?”

The healer laughed outright then; shaking his head in a way that made his curls bounce.

Graves grinned, not feeling embarrassed in the slightest because the pain had dulled all of his nerves, and he was pleased about being able to make the man laugh. But the good feeling faded away when he reached up to comb his hair back and he saw the rune on his palm.

He remembered the silver moon, and the naked women with strange markings all over their bodies. Scamander reaching his hand out for him to take.

“It was there when you were brought in,” the Healer said, and Graves traced the white-lined rune with his fingers. It was the size of a Dragot but the white intricate lines criss-crossing each other made it look bigger than it was.

“Mr. Scamander has the same symbol too,” the Healer informed him, and Graves looked up from his hand and realized that the bed next to him was occupied by the sleeping Scamander.

Graves watched the steady rise and fall of Scamander’s chest; how small he looked underneath the blanket. He looked so young and innocent like this; almost adorable.

Then Scamander started snoring and Graves forced himself to look at the Healer, who was grinning at him.

“I’m sorry for being rude, but I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

The Healer smiled at him and his light green eyes looked like a bottomless lake on an early summer morning. “Healer Mathews at your service, Mr. Graves,” he answered with a little salute. “I’ve been looking after you and Mr. Scamander since you were both apparated in about 20 hours ago.”

“Has he woken up yet?” Graves asked, tilting his head towards the still snoring Scamander, seeing that there was a little drool on the side of his mouth.

Mathews pulled out his wand and waved it across Graves' body. There was a familiar cold sensation from the diagnostic spell going through him and Graves watched Mathews jot down his result before he ended the spell with a small wave of his wand.

“Mr. Scamander had a bad allergic reaction to one of the potions we used to make sure the burn on his palm wouldn’t be infected,” D’Antonio explained calmly. “He just fell asleep about three hours ago.” The healer pulled out a bottle of clear blue liquid from his coat pocket and shook the bottle until the contents turned inky black.

“Was he burnt badly?”

He nodded his head as he poured the potion in a cup before making sure Graves swallowed it all in one gulp.

“When they brought you in, the two of you were holding hands, and it seemed like he had been protecting you from the worst of the burn,” Mathews explained; moving with efficiency to check on Scamander’s bandaged hand. “He had markings like lightning all over his back, but those have been taken care of with some Dittany and Murtlap paste. The one on his palm, however, won’t come off…” the healer trailed off with a frown on his face.

“What exactly is this rune?” Graves prodded gently, suddenly anxious to know what the rune meant.

“We don’t know for sure what the rune means, Mr. Graves, But someone from the Curse and Hex Department will come and inspect it when both you and Mr. Scamander are awake.”

Graves tried to ask more questions, but his vision was blurring out and he felt the enchanting lull of sleepiness suddenly engulfing him.

“For now, please rest,” Mathews coaxed; his light green eyes fading away as Graves fell into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

“I’m bored,” Newt whined, shifting his aching body to the side and kicking the thick blanket off the bed for good measure before turning to stare at Graves.

Graves was lounging on his bed, silently reading Fontaine’s report on what had happened during the Midsummer Night ambush. The man was wearing glasses that were slipping off his nose as he hunched his body forward.

“Graaaaaaves,” Newt called, dragging out the vowel long enough that he sounded like a whiny brat. But still, Graves ignored him, calmly flipping the pages and continuing to read as if Newt wasn’t even in the same room as him.

Newt didn’t usually attract attention. He usually didn’t even _like_ attention, but he was bored, and Graves was the only one around. He waited to see if the man would acknowledge him, but he was still so engrossed with the report that Newt pouted.

He looked at his pillow, then looked back at Graves. He then flung the pillow right into Graves’ face and grinned when the man yelped in surprise.

“Are you a child?” Graves rumbled, pushing the pillow off his face to glare at Newt heatedly.

“You were ignoring me, so I had to get your attention,” Newt laughed when Graves flipped him off and turned his face the other way to continue reading his report.

Newt was quiet for a while, watching specks of dust floating in the sunlight. He missed Pickett and he wondered if the Goldstein sisters were taking care of his suitcase. He wondered if the Niffler was behaving or if she had already robbed half of New York.

His musings were interrupted when his face was gently smacked by The New York Ghost. The newspaper was floating in front of him and he took it down.

“Do the crosswords for me,” Graves said without taking his eyes off the report. Newt blinked and dumbly asked, “What?”

“You look like you’re about to cry,” Graves claimed, resting his cheek on his knuckle as he continued reading.

“You’re not even looking at my face,” Newt countered sulkily, opening the newspaper to the Entertainment Section to look at the puzzle.

They stayed quiet like that; Graves reading and Newt thinking. Every once in awhile he would tilt his head to search for the answer before quickly scribbling it down.

“What’s a six letter word for unkempt,” Newt asked, looking at the empty boxes while biting the end of his pencil.

“Newton,” Graves answered promptly and Newt flicked a spell that made Graves giggle in mortification. He ducked his head and laughed when Graves threw his pillow back at him.

“Are you a child, Mr. Graves?” Newt mocked, furrowing his eyebrows in perfect imitation of Graves’ annoyed expression. Graves was ready to hex him, he could see the way his fingers crackled with purple static.

Then Healer Mathews stepped inside the ward with a sunny “Good morning.”

“Hello,” Newt greeted back, smiling at the man, who pulled out his wand and quickly cast the diagnostic spell to check on their vitals.

“How are you two doing?” Mathews asked as he tapped his wand to unravel the bandage around Newt’s hand.

“Mr. Graves was bullying me. He chucked the pillow at my face. It hurts,” Newt tattled pitifully and turned to Graves who made choking noise.

“I’m sure Mr. Graves thought the bullying was a bit warranted,” Mathews drawled with a teasing glint in his eyes when Graves grinned triumphantly.

Newt pouted and stuck his tongue out at Graves who flipped his finger again at him.

Mathews made a satisfied hum when he had finished examining Newt’s palm. The burn had faded, leaving the skin pink and healthy again. He moved to check on Graves next; clicking his tongue when he saw the thick report on the long table but didn’t reprimand him for working.

“Both of your hands look good to me,” Mathews reported; scribbling on his chart in a messy scrawl. “I’ve called the Rune Expert to check out the symbol. I think she can definitely us help out.”

“Rune Expert?” Newt asked, and before Graves had a chance to answer him, there was a sharp sound of heels click-clacking against the floor. The sound echoed loudly throughout the busy hallway.

Newt looked towards the door, as if waiting for someone to materialize. And soon enough, there was a woman turning the corner.

“Hello,” the woman said to the room, gliding almost effortlessly to stand next to Mathews. 

“This is MACUSA’s Rune Expert, Sally Hawkins.”

Hawkins dipped her head in greeting and without any preamble she began to get down to business, conjuring up a small stool to sit on.

“May I?” She asked and Newt let her take his hand in hers, watching the way she traced the rune on his palm with such care. She hummed quietly, before turning her chair around to examine Graves’ palm.

“Is it bad?” Graves asked as Mathews peered over to watch.

“Peculiar,” Hawkins said quietly. She conjured up a thick tome from thin air and enlarged it before flipping the pages. She stopped when she got to the desired page, and her dark eyes moved rapidly, gobbling up the information.

She closed the book and took a deep breath; Newt averted his eyes from her ample bosoms.

“There is good news and bad news,” Hawkins announced to the room; her long fingers tapping her lips as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Good news first, please,” Newt said, his heart suddenly beating wildly in his chest.

“The good news is that,” Hawkins started. “The rune will fade in time.”

“And the bad news?”

Here, she hesitated; wheeled her chair out from between the beds to address both of them properly at the same time.

“The bad news is that, you both are bound to each other now,” she continued, wriggling her hands as she looked at her husband for guidance.

“Bound to each other?” Newt asked, voice stuck in his throat.

“Married,” Hawkins provided.

Graves let out a heavy shuddering sigh. Newt looked at him and saw that Graves looked older somehow, more exhausted, with his unkempt hair and unshaven face.

“Are you sure that you read the rune correctly?” Newt asked, his mind still processing this information.

“I’m the best MACUSA has and I’ve never been wrong in reading runes before, Mr. Scamander,” Hawkins replied saucily, dipping her head slightly to check his expression. “Although, I might have to re-check the nature of the rune because from what I gathered in this small tome, it says that it feeds on intimacy.”

“Intimacy?” Graves asked, looking at the rune expert with sharp concentration.

“Casual touches, intimate touches,” Hawkins clarified. “Holding hands, kissing, hugging, sleeping together. As long as you are near each other and constantly touching, then the rune will be satisfied.”

“What would happen if we didn’t touch?”

“You would be inflicted with phantom pain. It would probably be just as bad as the burn on your palm if you two refuse to have intimate contact for a long time,” she explained, her mouth twisting into a sad pout when she saw Graves rubbing his face furiously.

Newt didn’t say anything; couldn’t say anything really. It was a lot to take in.

Then he heard a brittle laugh; a grating sound that unnerved him.

“Mr. Graves are you alright?” Mathews asked, moving towards Graves to catch him before he fell off the bed.

“I’m not alright,” Graves wheezed out in between his humorless laughter. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at Newt before he snorted another hysterical laugh. “How could I be alright when I’m married to this brat?”

Newt bristled; his neck felt hot as he watched Graves laugh. Without even realizing it; he jumped into Graves’ bed and pinned the man on the bed; fingers wound tightly around Graves’ pajamas.

“Well how do you think I feel having to marry someone as old as you huh?” Newt screamed as Graves tried to push him off. But Newt was faster, he sat on Graves and pulled the man’s hair.

Healer Mathews pulled out his wand to separate the two men, but Graves’ leg sent the wand sailing through the air.

Watching from the corner of the bed, Hawkins rubbed her temples and murmured to herself, “They’re not going to survive this marriage.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you have reached this point, thank you so much for reading! kudos and comment are really much appreciated!


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